The Devil tips his hat to me
by TheDarkLord'sMistress
Summary: Jim Moriarty wakes up in hell and finds he has an audience with the devil.


Jim Moriarty awoke with a groan, his hand instantly flying up to his head. Waking up was a big enough surprise, but finding his skull intact simply made no sense. Getting to his feet and absentmindedly brushing off his suit, he took in his surroundings."Oh my."

He was in what appeared to be a cell of sorts, but not a cell you would see in this day and age. No, it was rather like something out of an old film about kings and knights. Shackles dangling from the walls, some obviously human bones and dubious splashes on the stone floor. Bit overdramatic, really.

It seemed that his senses were returning to him, because Moriarty became aware of screams resonating through the building. He stepped up to the door of his cell and peered through the bars at the top. The stench of blood and decaying flesh hit him before he could make out anything in the darkness. Then he saw doors that must lead to rooms like the one he was in aswell as people bound in chains in the corridor.

Ah. Hell.

Well, that explained why his brain wasn't leaking out of his head. A small smile played across his lips as he thought of how upset Sherlock must be at finding there was an afterlife. Religion was just not logical, and yet they'd gotten it right.

Before he could ponder what eternity in hell might hold in store for him, a face appeared on the other side of the door, human if you overlooked the completely jet-black eyes."Back, boy."

Without waiting for a reaction, the door was slammed open and Moriarty narrowly avoided getting his face smashed in with a quick jump backwards."And what are you supposed to be? My own personal torturer?"

The man – or demon or whatever he was – snarled in anger."You're lucky the boss wants to see you or I'd rip you to shreds!"

"Well, don't I feel special,"Jim chimed with a grin that he knew infuriated others. Sure enough, the black-eyed man growled and grabbed him quite a bit harder than necessary to drag him out of his cell.

.

They left the clichéd torture dungeon behind them and entered into a corridor that seemed to belong to a mansion. Before long, they stood infront of a huge oak double-winged door that swung open once the demon knocked. He pushed Moriarty away from him so forcefully that the man crashed to the floor.

"Good heavens, you bafoon,"a new voice sounded, exasperated."I said _bring _me the new arrival, not _manhandle_ him. Out of my sight, before I decide to punish you."

"Master Crowley,"the man muttered and hastily fled the room, the door slamming behind him out of its own accord.

For the second time within minutes, Jim Moriarty picked himself up of the ground, finding himself being watched by a man sitting nonchalantly in an armchair."Hello, Jim. Do have a seat."

He lazily waved his hand and a second armchair popped out of thin air. Moriarty couldn't help but wonder whether the man was trying to impress him. Either way, he plopped down into the asigned chair.

"Tea?"the man offered. Moriarty nodded."Don't mind if I do."

A snap of the man's fingers and they both held steaming cups of tea.

Moriarty took a sip of his tea, studying the man across from him. Powerful, confident, intelligent. That much he could easily tell from the look in his eyes. But anything else... Well, he blamed recently having his brains blown out for the lack of deduction."So, who are you, then?"

"Oh, how very rude of me,"the man said, a small smile on his face."I'm the King of Hell, but feel free to call me Crowley."

Moriarty accepted this as if he met Satan every other day."Jim Moriarty. Hi."

"Oh, I know who you are,"Crowley said."I don't ask just anyone to see me. But I've been watching you for a while and I must say, I'm rather impressed. Mastermind. A tad on the mad side. Shooting yourself just to mess with that Sherlock Holmes – now that's dedication!"

"Oh, don't make me blush!"Moriarty replied, feigning embarrassment.

The King of Hell chortled."Yes, well, I'd like to make you an offer. How about we jump past the usual couple decades of torture and I let you become a demon right away?"

Moriarty narrowed his eyes at him."What's the catch?"

"I'll expect you to go after some boys who've been given me a spot of trouble,"Crowley said."But I'm sure you'll have a laugh, so no catch really."

He sighed heavily."It's hard finding decent henchmen, you know."

"Henchman?"Moriarty said, disgusted."I'm the puppeteer, not the puppet."

Again, the devil laughed lightly."You're my consulting criminal. Do well with this task, and we'll talk about a promotion."

Another snap of his fingers and a file appeared. Crowley handed it to Moriarty."That's all you need to know about the Winchesters. I assume you'll need some time to figure out a plan."

Knowing that he was dismissed, Jim Moriarty got up and made his way to the door. Before leaving, he turned around, hands burried in his pockets and grinning."King of Hell, huh?"

Crowley raised his cup as if to toast him, an amused smirk on his face."Honey, you should see me in a crown!"


End file.
